


The Semantics of Genre Fiction

by clytemnestras



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>call it the making of, the behind the scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Semantics of Genre Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted 3/6/14

When they're in their stronghold, it's not like anyone can find them. A fleece-lined sanctuary for the concubine and her spellbound boys. If they could be any genre it wouldn't be romance - the ups and down's aren't worth the pain or the cost of heart-reconstruction. And there's a thought - a deconstruction of the genre, plowing forward into new space. Straight romance, no trouble.  
  
  
  
That could make them pioneers. And it makes sense, with the way Annie falls back against them, Abed somehow the pillow for her cheek and Troy like the blanket swathing them both. It makes sense, with the hands that stroke through Abed's hair, which could belong to either one. The skin against his, only soft, no pressure. And everything is so warm but not in the dry-hot summer way that boils the air straight out of his lungs but balmy and gentle and _I want to curl my arms around you and discuss the merits of John Hughes movies_  that questions but never asks for the things he's not sure he has to give.  
  
  
  
And that's the stumbling block - life is not straight, and art cannot tell lies and the three of them must be masterpieces so if they could be any genre it wouldn't be romance - even in deconstruction or rebuilds; but maybe it could be noir.  
  
  
  
Call their souls little renegades, because that's a title that fits. And say Annie is the poor teen runaway that needs to find out where she fits in an unforgiving landscape, and Troy is the damaged hero learning that hearts can shine in the darkness and Abed is the catalyst, like always, the meta guy that shows them the lines of intersection. They're running from societal expectations - grow up, get a job - and shooting down established roles like dirty whiskey.  
  
  
  
They can hide in the shadows, in that case, huddle together for warmth, shielding the others from the stray bullets of responsibility. They can kiss in the adrenaline, share passion and hammering hearts when Troy grips his chest like a lifeline and Annie smiles and throws herself into both of their arms,  
  
  
  
Except they fall back laughing, even whilst kisses are exchanged and hands explore skin and whip clothes away to cover innocent teddy bear eyes. So if they could be any genre, any genre at all, he thinks they might have to invent one. Because there are no neat boxes to slide into here, in the pale pink/blue glow of the fort they bring life to. There are just arms, open and sated, enough to be content.  
  
  
  
If they could be any genre they would be a documentary - perfection in 100% Egyptian cotton. Except there aren't any camera's here. That's the rule.  
  
  
  
He turns off the light, lets bodies cover him and hold on tight. Maybe that's alright.


End file.
